


care to enlighten me

by verity



Series: tween wolf [26]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Mutual Dislike, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles," Lydia says, grabbing him by the arm before he can escape the bowling alley and flee into <i>Waltzing With Wolves</i>'s loving embrace. "Wait up. I need to talk to you."</p><p>Stiles glances around the lobby, but Jackson and Danny have abandoned him in his hour of need. "It can't be said in a terse yet cutting text message?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	care to enlighten me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_rocket_frost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_rocket_frost/gifts), [whiskey_in_tea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskey_in_tea/gifts).



> This is update 2 of 2 for tonight! (so, make sure you caught the previous one)
> 
> The regular deluge of updates should resume now. :)

Here's the thing about Lydia Martin: she used to be the queen of Stiles's heart, the girl of his dreams, right up until he got to know her.

—

"Stiles," Lydia says, grabbing him by the arm before he can escape the bowling alley and flee into _Waltzing With Wolves_ 's loving embrace. "Wait up. I need to talk to you."

Stiles glances around the lobby, but Jackson and Danny have abandoned him in his hour of need. "It can't be said in a terse yet cutting text message?"

Lydia walks off towards her car without looking back like she expects him to follow her, which, admittedly, he does.

"Look," he says when he catches up to her, "I really need to—"

Lydia lets out an exaggerated sigh. "You _need_ to tell me what is going on with Allison. Scott clearly thinks the girl walks on water, but Scott also thinks that you and Isaac Lahey are—"

Regardless of Stiles's personal tolerance for Isaac honing in on his and Scott's broship, that's a little too far. Stiles crosses his arms. "Do not even go there."

"Whatever." Lydia scowls back at him. "You neglected to mention I was harboring a fugitive from the law."

"She ran away from home!" Stiles says.

"Sure," Lydia says. "We went to the mall and she paid for everything in hundred dollar bills, Stiles. She has multiple IDs in her bag, she sleeps with a knife under her pillow, and she's apparently cross-trained on guns and compound bows. Right now, my working theory is that Allison is an assassin. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"It's not really like that," Stiles hedges. "She doesn't—"

"So it's sort of like that?" Lydia says.

—

The Lydia that Stiles fell in love with—the imaginary Lydia—wasn't that different from the real Lydia in a lot of ways. She was beautiful and brilliant, the kind of brilliant that lets you ace everything without even trying and leaves you with prizes and theorems named after you. The real Lydia is exactly that beautiful and exactly that brilliant, but she's just as interested as manipulating the people around her as she is in multivariable calculus. She isn't going to stop at revolutionizing mathematics: she wants to take over the world.

Stiles respected that attitude a lot more before the whole werewolf thing.

—

The parking lot of the bowling alley is lit from overhead by those bright lights that wash everything out; even Lydia's perfect curls are suffering beneath the glare, her pale skin almost snow white. She taps her toe against the pavement. "Well? I want an answer, Stiles. Remember, I'm doing this as a favor to _you_."

"By which you mean Scott," Stiles says.

"By which I mean Scott," Lydia says. "Who wouldn't say no to the saddest, most mangy dog on the planet, which somehow leaves me in doubt as to his judge of character when it comes to your long-lost middle school BFF."

Stiles glances down at his sneakers, which are scuffed and getting tight at the toe. They don't exactly instill confidence. "Allison… her family are, were—her mom's dead, did she mention that?—they're not nice people. She did run away from them, from that stuff. But she's not an _assassin_ , seriously, Lydia—"

"The mob?" Lydia pauses, looks at him expectantly. "Her aunt burned down the Hale house. I know they're not nice people."

"So you remember that, huh." Stiles scratches the back of his neck.

"I want to know why you trust her," Lydia says. "Tell me why I shouldn't tell my sister and Laura Hale exactly who's staying in my house."

There's a long, lurching moment where Stiles fails to draw any conclusions beyond a breach of Werewolf: The Masquerade, because if there is anyone capable of Sherlocking their lives and coming up "werewolf," it's Lydia Martin. Then— "Deputy Hale?"

"What, you thought I was going to go to Delivery Hale?" Lydia says. "What would he do, cry at her?"

"Hey," Stiles says, even though he kind of agrees.

Lydia pulls her keys out of her purse and jiggles them in her hand. "I'm waiting."

The problem is, Stiles—he doesn't _not_ trust Allison, but he doesn't trust her, either. Back when they'd crowded around Scott on the porch of the crumbling Hale house and sworn to be his pack, it was simple; there was a threat and they'd met it, trio'd it up like the kids in the _Harry Potter_ books. Now, there's no clear danger, their daily challenges are depressingly mundane, and the more time passes, the more obvious it becomes that friendship alone isn't enough to bind them. Scott and Stiles can protect themselves, but Isaac and Erica can't, not yet; how is Stiles supposed to put Allison ahead of them?

"I don't trust her," Stiles says, finally. "But—Allison trusts us. She's been moving all around the country for her entire life, but when she needed a safe place, she came back here, to us, to Beacon Hills. I mean, she could—if she has all that money, that ID, she could go anywhere, right? Disappear? But she came here. And she's my friend."

Of course, Lydia rolls her eyes, because such plebian things as friendship are beneath her. "Okay," she says. "That's good enough for me."

Stiles unfolds his arms. "It is?"

"Beacon Hills is boring. Allison's not," Lydia says. She unlocks her car. "I'd just prefer not to be murdered in my sleep."

"Yeah, well," Stiles says. "You definitely don't have to worry about that."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
